


Before the Beginning

by yuma (yuma_writes)



Series: Tags [1]
Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Insecurity, Team, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13026633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuma_writes/pseuds/yuma
Summary: Little pieces build a whole team. It just takes a while, but that's okay. Dalton's patient.





	Before the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot snippets filling the ends of the episodes.

_"Adam, are you sure?"_

_"Not yet, but give me a meeting with him and I will be."_

 

The café was part hookah bar and part teahouse to cater to the residents and lure tourists into spending a few Turkish lira to create an Instagram op. It was large, boisterous and accustomed to all sorts of uniforms filling the space. 

The agent was where Adam expected: in the shadowy corner, in the transitional border between hookah and tea, his back to the wall, not looking at the front door. Which meant he was.

He's good. Damn good. The guy was dressed in a worn brown tweed suit—too ragged to scream money, but still presentable enough not to be considered vagrant. Adam missed seeing him at the first and second perimeter sweep even though he suspected where the guy might be. And it was only after a good squint past the smoke did Adam see the agent huddled with the battered tin kettle and teacups. And that was with Patricia Campbell already having sent over Amir Al-Raisani's dossier.

_Invisible is right_ , Adam thought as he wends his way around tourists and locals. Some nodded in greeting; military personnel was common this close to the base. Others slouched in hopes he wasn't here for them.

_"Is this seat taken?"_ Adam asked in quiet Arabic.

Dark eyes flicked up as if he hasn't been tracking Adam since he came in. He nodded, more like tipped his chin really, in invitation.

Adam sat down. The aviator jacket was too warm for the afternoon heat, but he didn't take it off. The small wooden chair creaked under him. He nodded towards the food on the small table.

"How's the _pide_?" Adam eyed the flatbread torn to pieces. At Amir's shrug, Adam glanced at the meatballs congealing in the chipped plate with its slices of bread.

"The lamb's good," Amir offered reluctantly.

Amir didn't look like he ate either of it, but Adam suspected this was a test of sorts. Adam gestured to the plate of _köfte_ by Amir's elbow. The owner from across the shop nodded, shouted back towards the kitchen.

An awkward silence fell between the two men. Adam's back itched, unused to sitting with his back to the door. However, he caught Amir's eyes occasionally flick up past his shoulder, so Adam ignored the niggling feeling and decided to help himself to some tea. Amir requested two cups in anticipation. Good. Adam needed a guy who thought that far ahead.

"What is it you want to know?"

Adam blinked at the question. He smiled faintly.

"How long did you want to ask me?" Adam shot back.

The corner of Amir's mouth tugged up. "Since you asked about the _pide_."

Adam chortled. "Good show of restraint." He took his time pouring his tea. He arched an eyebrow at the first sip. The tea was cold.

"Been here long?" 

Amir shrugged one shoulder. He glanced past Adam again and said nothing.

Adam thought Amir looked tired and he wondered if ignoring food was something he had to do often. He remembered the file said three years. Three years in ISIS, barely risking contact with his handler. Then something happened in Algeria. Something bad. Something that made Amir's handler abruptly pull him out. And then Amir was sent to combat training, to be reshaped to a different kind of soldier.

Three years. _Jesus._

"Maybe I should be asking what it is that _you_ want to know," Adam offered.

Surprise flitted across an olive tanned face. Brown eyes lifted to train on Adam.

Adam's palm rubbed across his bearded chin. He scratched the short bristles as he thought about how to convince a man who learned to survive alone to learn how to survive with others. He suspected the years of undercover, compounded by a lost teenager's grief and guilt, was going to make it a hard lesson to teach. 

"Too bad about the _pide_ ," Adam said abruptly. He pretended not to see Amir's blink. "Closest thing to pizza in these parts. McGuire, our medic, tried to make pizza once. Didn't work. Went so FUBAR Team Two heard it and thought we were under attack." He grimaced. 

"Ever tried to request a new grill from a quartermaster?" Adam went on, not waiting for a reply. "Guy was so pissed we were asking for another grill so soon, he sent us one used oil drum and said he was cutting us off until year's end." Preach enjoyed the challenge converting the damn thing, though. 

"That sounds…appetizing," Amir commented tentatively.

Adam mentally gave himself a point. "You're telling me. Everyone said I imagined things." Adam spread his hands wide. "I swear, though, everything we cooked in it tasted like petroleum. Eli—" Adam stopped. Because Elijah was a name no one dared to say out loud, especially in front of Jaz.

Amir's eyes were keen on Adam's face. "Deputy Director Campbell told me. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Yeah." Adam scrubbed his chin wearily. "Hurt one of us, it hurts us all."

"The hazards of a team."

Damn it, the conversation veered off somewhere Adam didn't want it to go. He cleared his throat.

"There are advantages of being in a team, too," Adam countered. "At least no one is suffering alone."

Ah and there it was: a flicker of longing that fled as quickly as it came, but Adam felt the pang as acutely as a knife slipping between his ribs. _(Never fun. Ouch.)_

"A team," Amir mused out loud. "You already have a team. I'm not sure where you think I'll fit in with you."

"I need an invisible man, Amir," Adam said. "I need a guy who can be inconspicuous in a crowd."

Amir nodded. "I see."

Adam doubted it. "But the thing you gotta understand, it doesn't apply to the team."

Startled, Amir looked back at Adam.

"I need to know you're going to be okay with us around, backing you up, watching the entrances for you, blowing up grills and feeling like crap with you."

The silence stretched between them again.

Amir's eyes slid away.

"I was taught it's safer to be alone," Amir murmured. His mouth twisted. "Alone in a crowd." He offered another economical shrug. "It's become a habit."

"Learn to break that habit," Adam advised. 

Amir's eyes snapped back to Adam. 

"No matter where you end up, what you relied on before won't work here."

"I've relied on myself."

Adam shook his head. "Not anymore. You're not alone; you can have a team, your pick of a team, actually. I just happen to have cut the line, hoping you'll be in mine."

"Why?" Amir didn't mince words.

Adam locked gazes with Amir. "We lost a guy. A real good guy. I need another good guy on my team."

"And you think I'm that man for your team?"

"Aren't you?" Adam challenged. "I vetted you, but you could have refused to see me."

Somewhere behind Adam, a plate shattered. Amir's eyes snapped past Adam, evaluated the threat and dismissed it. It took a second. Less.

"The whole time I sat down," Adam murmured, "You had my back three times, Amir."

Eyes widened a fraction.

Adam smiled crookedly. "Maybe you're more of a team player than you realize."

Amir fidgeted. He looked oddly discomfited by the idea.

Adam pulled out a small canvas satchel from his jacket's pocket. He slid it across the table towards Amir.

Blunt fingers peppered with tiny scars wrapped around the package. Without pulling them out, Amir looked down at them, clearly recognizing the shape.

"Your dog tags," Adam said. "I know there was no need for them before; too dangerous to carry identifying items, but you need something on you in case…in case we can't bring you back."

The small pouch disappeared under the curl of Amir's hand.

"How do you know I'll join you?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't. I hoped. Director Campbell gave me the final say and I said I needed to be sure."

Amir held the satchel but didn't put it away. He stared at his fist like it was an IED.

"And you're sure?"

"Only if you are," Adam told him in a somber voice. "Because this will only work if you're sure, Amir. My final say only works if both of us are sure."

"I'm not sure." Amir continued to stare at the satchel in his grasp, though. 

Adam nodded, unsurprised. "Fair enough. You need time to be sure. I get that. So how about this? Tonight. At 2000 hours unless we're wheels up. We're the last hangar on the base. The guards at the post will show you. We're having burgers tonight unless one of the guys decides to try and _improve_ the grill again."

A smile ticked up and faded as quickly. "I thought you said I needed time."

"Sure," Adam said glibly, "Take all the time you need. With us."

Amir studied Adam, for what, Adam wasn't sure.

"What happened to the first one?"

Now it was Adam's turn to blink. "What?"

"You said another grill. What happened to the first one?"

Adam made a face. "An ill-advised attempt making beer can chicken." It was the last time anyone allowed Jimmy near a grill.

Amir's eyes cooled. "I don't drink alcohol." 

"You didn't miss out," Adam said breezily. He waved a hand towards the wall to his left. "Took us all night to scrap that damn bird off our Humvee."

Surprised, Amir chuckled under his breath. This time, the tiny smile stayed longer on his drawn features. He squeezed the pouch in his hand as if testing its weight before slipping it into his blazer's pocket with nimble magician's hands.

"Last hangar to the left," Adam reminded him. "2000 hours. Unless wheels up."

Amir nodded.

It was as good as a handshake, Adam supposed. His chest eased; a tension sat on his ribs whenever they were coming back from a mission a man short. It didn't sit right. And every file Adam came across read too gung-ho for his tastes. Until now.

"If we're not there," Adam advised, "Feel free to rack out in one of the bunks there. Just avoid the one with the green pine tree air freshener hanging in it." At Amir's puzzled look, Adam added with a grimace, "Trust me, you'll be grateful you did."

Amir's face was inscrutable; his expression gave nothing away the moment Adam said 'Trust.' Adam supposed it was a habit to keep the T-word at arm's length. However, Adam found himself confident he could break Amir out of that habit. Someone needed to for Amir's sake. 

The moment was broken when the waiter arrived in a clatter of plates. Adam nodded as the server set down a steaming dish of _köfte_ in front of him.

Adam pushed the plate towards Amir. 

"It's better hot," Adam said.

Amir paused. He smiled wanly and glanced up at Adam again. An unsure teenager stared back, but in a blink, the calculating man returned. 

After a beat, Amir's eyes lightened, no longer older than his face. 

"Last hangar," Amir said. He pulled the plate of food closer to him. Good. 

"Unless wheels up." Adam rose from his seat. He rapped on the table as a farewell and left.

 

_"Well?"_

_"Yeah. I want him on our team."_

**Author's Note:**

> I was diligently working on my projects. Then I saw "It's All Personal" 
> 
> Er, about five times.
> 
> And the muses refused to go quietly unless this was written.
> 
> Go fig.
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.
> 
> I _like_ cookies!  
> 


End file.
